


The Fear of Love

by OtomeGirl



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Fear, Love, Other, Underfell, think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:29:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7883998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtomeGirl/pseuds/OtomeGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a thief who steals "love" but who is he and what does he want?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fear of Love

Many years ago there was a man who stole love. Our best words. Put them carefully in a linen bag and disappeared. To be honest, in our village, a hedge hills embraces, no one ever saw the man's face and no one knew his name. But in the morning, poor people woke up. Poor always poor and sad.

The love, at that time, were of gold.

The man introduced an invisible straw in our silence and departed the words. Similarly art is served to misguide words of books and newspapers. I do not steal all because it would give much the views. He imprisoned the gay words, the brightest, our best words - and we survived in the middle of love without flavor.

Insipid word is as unknown fruit of the sun.

Each lived day had fewer words to wrap up the sadness. It was as if the mother wanted to make a bread sponge cake and there was no sugar; as if we were forbidden bees to produce honey.

Prevented the luminous words, lost weight imagination: and so it would be impossible to ride to the end of dreams. The dream, in our village was wiped velvet melancholy.

We knew where the man had the bag of joy. I was in a thicket, or the sun could pierce the canopy of trees. The forest was filled mushrooms: fattened shade and moisture. Some mushrooms hit the grandeur of the trees!

None of us could go to the woods. Among other words, he stole us courage. Also ran the news that the mushrooms would be poisonous. All mushrooms, small - open umbrella size - and big. It would be enough to look at them and lose a life!

With the passage of time, our grief turned to cloud. And this cloud, from one moment to the next, rasurou the sun in almost half of the village: this part of town was dark as the woods.

Every day, because silence was woven of words without flavor, the cloud stretched the domain. He feared is a poisonous plague of mushrooms! To ward off the curse in the morning burned green pine rama around the houses.

Mushrooms, in short, did not raise his head. But the cloud, which thrived with the smoke of raw green, was hungry, great hunger for clarity. Much of the village, at some point, it was night. Calamity! The calamity caused by moss green, very green gave the first sign.

"A strange disease!" Said the old.

In the face of the children of the village emerged strange beard, very green and wet.

We tested all the syrups and other remedies of the imagination of the people Nothing. Nothing hindered moss advance in the face of children. And also of little value going to the barber. He, with the knife back, wiped our faces, but the next morning, the beard erupted over glow.

Old said: "No one can be a man ahead of time, it is against the laws of nature!"

They sent for the doctor.

He did not hide his amazement, the doctor who came from afar. First, to see the day and the night in the same place and the same time. After the surprise has multiplied as they arose you Barbados and sad boys. As he noted, with minutia, a child, and found remedy to counter the evil of all others. He opened the leather briefcase, pulled out a notebook and pen. He wrote fast. Gave the recipe, he did not accept the money from the query. And set off at full speed, as if our disease also spread by contagion.

The thief of words was with us. Nobody saw him, but he was always among us. We guess its presence by the words that the invisible straw had slurped the recipe:

The cloud at that moment grew wide meters: because all of us, old and new, without knowing what the doctor had indicated in, we were even more sad. But the last word recipe (the thief will find little value to store the linen bag), opened a clue. If we discover the word that precedes silence, it unraveled the mystery.

The doctor's car had folded the hill, and was then, unexpectedly, he heard the cry:

"We must arrest the thief of love!"

The cry went through the village, woke the dogs on the side where it was night, scared of the chickens where it was day.

A woman raised her voice and arms in cloud direction: reproached (affront, the word we're looking for) silence. Suddenly other inhabitants rescued the courage, the courage word, sleeping in the woods mushrooms!

Cloud winced, then as animal hill, fled terrified. In an instant, the sky was light blue, blue immensely. And the sun, generous, drank our melancholy.

In big party, the people went to the discovery of the woods. First surprise: there were giant mushrooms, much less poisonous. But the linen bag was there, at the foot of an old arbutus. We opened the bag and the bag had nothing!

In this bright day, really bright, the bag empty linen arrested the thief of joy. He, after all, it was a word - the word love.

No one ever saw or found out who was the thief and disappointed, began to return to their homes.

The cold wind brought someone singing

“Tralalala the world is changing tralalala love is still shining tralalala”

And a small wooden boat disappears in the river mist.

Meanwhile, somewhere, a human begins to fall.


End file.
